As I'm lying in bed,
Fevered,
In wait,
Burning silhouettes of heat
With my smoldering skin

I wonder how much
Is psychosomatic
And if I'm so convinced I'm
Sick
That fever appeared when
I summoned it

When really I just wanted
So badly
To set aside responsibility
And sleep.

How powerful am I?
Powerful enough to **** myself
With a
Thought.

Thankful for now that all I wish for
Is sleep,
And not death.